


Across the Aisle

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-22
Updated: 2007-07-22
Packaged: 2019-01-19 10:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12408822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: A Potter and a Malfoy meet under stressful circumstances. An offer of friendship is made...but will the second generation make the same choice as the first?





	Across the Aisle

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**A/N:** I couldn't resist writing a 2nd handshake scene. I predict that this circumstance of AS and S meeting will become popular fanon before long, so this way I can claim writing one of the first versions of it ; ) 

_“You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”_

\--Draco Malfoy, pg. 108, “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone” 

Albus sneered at his brother, trying to cover up his hurt as James sauntered out of the compartment, still laughing at his little brother's gullibility. Albus had had just about enough of James and his jokes. Thestrals, and Slytherins, and professors who cast spells on you when you were late- Albus was sure it was all hogwash. It hurt a little, though, that James could scare him and laugh. But it wasn't like he needed James, anyway...right? 

Sitting across from him, Rose Weasley's smirk was almost as irritating as James' had been. The girl was combing her fingers through her hair, preening. She hadn't been tricked at all by James' jokes, or intimidated by his stories, and Albus had to admit, she had always been brave...for a girl. Albus sunk into his seat, arms crossed petulantly. He glared back into Rose's gloating face. Her bushy red hair rose around her in a thick cloud, and Albus thought resentfully that her freckles looked like mud. 

“You actually believed that, Al?” Rose twittered. 

Albus scowled, and turned away from her, watching the window. The excitement that had been coursing through him on the platform had been squashed by his brother's teasing, and Rose's superior attitude. Watching the countryside roll by in green and yellow, he wished suddenly that he was at Hogwarts now, sitting at Gryffindor table. Albus grimaced, though, the day dream resurfacing the (irrational, he knew) fear that it wouldn't be the Gryffindor table he sat at at all. He imagined for a moment what it'd be like if he was a Slytherin. _Slytherin._ No matter what his father said, he couldn't quite believe that it was impossible, or that the Sorting Hat would care where Albus wanted to go. He didn't even consider that it might not matter what house he was in. He had never met Severus. It mattered. 

“Oh, Albus,” Rose sighed, and stopped combing her hair, seeing his grimace, “you're not going to be in Slytherin. Don't be stupid.” Obviously, she had inherited Aunt Hermione's gift for guessing his thoughts. 

“I'm not stupid,” Albus snapped back, feeling a faint blush rising on his cheeks. Rose rolled her eyes. Albus kept his glued firmly on the landscape rushing by.   
After a moment of silence, Rose had not gone back to finger-combing her hair, but had decided to lean towards Albus with a pitying look on her face. “Al-” she began, but Albus wouldn't stand it. 

Pretending that he had no idea he'd just interrupted her attempt at comforting him, Albus fairly jumped to his feet. “I'm gonna go change.” He said simply, and walked out of the compartment before Rose could speak. 

Mind buzzing, Albus set off down the narrow corridor. A few students were out and about- chattering, laughing, and catching up. Albus tucked his hands in his pockets and tried not to look at these students. The blush that had risen was not fading as fast as he'd like. 

Feeling a little lonely and quite out of place, Albus was about to go back to his compartment when he remembered the excuse he'd given to leave. Albus looked down at his t-shirt and jeans, realizing he'd forgotten to grab the new Hogwarts robes he'd said he was going to change into. He couldn't very well go back now- Rose would never let him live it down, and he didn't really want to deal with her pouting or scolding.

With a sigh, Albus continued his walking, watching the carpet under his feet. He decided that he'd just find another compartment to sit in for now, and go back later, when (hopefully) Rose had forgotten about his false excuse. Most of the compartments he saw were full, their doors firmly closed. The few times he'd opened a compartment to check, he'd been met with silent, questioning stares. Albus' face had turned as red as the train on those occasions, and he quickly shut those doors, continuing in his search. He had about given up hope, and resigned himself to Rose's scolding, when a commotion from inside one of the compartments captured his attention. 

From behind one closed door drifted the muffled sounds of cruel laughter and loud voices. Albus was considering whether or not to go in and investigate when something heavy banged against the door. Whatever it was had hit with such force that the door wobbled in its tracks. It wasn't much of a decision after that. Taking a deep breath, Albus put a hand on the rattling handle, and swiftly drew open the door. 

“What-” Albus stared. Two boys, one who was burly and brunette, and the other who was blond and looked about James' age, stared at him incredulously. Cornered by the window, looking for all the world like a grumpy turtle, was the blond boy in the stiffly buttoned black coat whom Albus had seen on the platform . “W-What's going on here?” Albus finished, though it was obvious what was going on here. Scattered about the compartment were thick, new-looking books, that Albus would've bet his left arm belonged to the turtle-boy. 

The blond quirked an eyebrow, apparently unruffled by Albus' abrupt entrance. “What's it to you, firstie?” Albus bristled. 

“Well, I-” 

  
“Yeah, firstie,” The brunette dropped the book he'd been holding, and turned away from the turtle-boy, attention diverted to Al. “This is none of your business.” 

“I, uh,” Albus faltered, looking nervously up at the taller, bigger, older boys, who loomed over him menacingly. Albus shut his mouth, feeling his face redden, and said the first thing on his mind that wasn't an apology. “I don't think you should, uh, y'know, be doing that...” He said quietly, much more quietly than he'd intended. 

The brunette's eyebrow rose even higher. 

“Here that, Sean? The ickle first year thinks we, 'shouldn't, uh, uh, be doing that'!” The blonde's voice was high pitched and mocking. He laughed. 

  
“Why, better not do it then, if he says we, uh, shouldn't,” the blond jeered, joining in his friend's derisive laughter. To Albus' ears, they sounded like James, and his fists clenched at his sides. He opened his mouth to say something (hopefully) scathing and (probably) unsafe, but the turtle-boy beat him to the mark. 

“Leave him alone,” the boy said, not even stuttering. The blond boy's voice was light and even, his manner almost arrogantly proper. Everyone, including Albus, turned shocked eyes on the boy. 

Looking uncomfortable, but determined, the boy stopped huddling on the seat, and stood up. “I said get out. Get out and leave us alone.”

  
Seeing as the one called Sean was too shocked to speak, the brunette replied for him. “Or what?” He sneered. 

“Or I'll get a prefect,” said the boy. 

“Ooo,” Sean mocked, recovering quickly, “go tattle to a prefect, will you?” His face crumpled into something grotesque, “Just like a Malfoy, then. Tattles and Death Eaters, the lot of you.”

Albus gasped, hearing Sean say something so ugly. He remembered once when he was younger when his Uncle Ron had called a man in Diagon a, 'dirty Death Eater,' and Albus remembered just as well his Aunt Hermione's scalding response. Albus had taken an infinitesimal step forward when he heard the insult, but Sean wasn't finished yet. 

“Guess we'll leave then, Malfoy, 'fore you go rat on us.” Sean slapped his friend's arm, and jerked his head towards the door. 

Sean kicked an abused looking book out of his path, and the brunette cast a cloudy look at the blond boy ( _Malfoy_ , Albus thought, remembering how dour the boy's family had looked on the platform), before following his friend. The burly brunette bumped deliberately into Albus as he passed by, laughing when Albus stumbled into a seat. Albus was relieved when the brunette boy, at last, slammed the compartment door shut. 

There was a long silent moment, then, as the boys surveyed each other, measuring and judging. The Malfoy who stood in front of him was shorter than Albus by about an inch, thin and pale, with pointed features and silvery blond hair that fell into big, dove gray eyes. He had long lashes for a boy, Albus thought, watching Malfoy blink silently, enduring the assessment with patience. He was little and pretty, Albus reasoned, and so he made a good target, even if his last name hadn't made him one already. 

Slowly, the Malfoy boy sat down, a movement that looked uncomfortable to Albus, as the blond was still wearing his black coat buttoned all the way up to his chin (Albus thought he looked like a miniature of his father with it buttoned like that). Almost defiantly, Malfoy looked away from Albus, staring out the window. Albus blinked a few times, gathering himself, and then scooted into the seat opposite Malfoy. 

“So...” He said, and Malfoy cast him a wary glance. “Um...” Albus looked out the window, too, glad for a distraction. “You want some help with your books?” He offered, gesturing at the tomes that were scattered higgeldy-piggeldy about the cabin. A few random pages were crumpled on the floor. 

  
Malfoy didn't even glance at the wreckage. “No. I'll take care of it later.” 

“Oh.” Albus fidgeted. “Right.” He looked back out the window. Another moment of silence. “Who were those guys?” He asked finally, figuring that he should say _something_.

  
“Just mudb-” Malfoy stopped, big eyes opening even wider. “Just boys.” He said finally, looking quickly back out the window. 

Albus puzzled over this strange behavior, wondering what it was that Malfoy had been about to say. “Why were they picking on you?” 

  
“Because I'm a pureblood,” Malfoy said simply, and Albus got the sudden feeling that Malfoy was repeating something he'd been told. Maybe by his parents. 

“That's horrible! Thinking some wizarding families are better than others.”   


Malfoy's gaze was unreadable, but Albus felt a little like he was being dissected. “Some wizarding families _are_ better than others,” he said. 

Albus scoffed. “Well, that's not what my dad says,” he crossed his arms, falling back on his favorite line of defense: what his father said. It was the only way he ever seemed to win against James, anyway. 

“Who's your dad?” Malfoy asked. 

“Harry Potter,” Albus said with pride, remembering how the people on the platform had goggled at his father. Suddenly, he very much wanted this pointed, pale little boy to like him. 

“Potter?” If it was possible, Malfoy had just gone a shade paler.   


“Yeah,” Albus said, a little less sure of himself. 

“Oh.” Malfoy blinked, and turned back to the window. Albus frowned. He didn't want the conversation to be over yet. 

“Well, I guess some are less, y'know, if they teach their kids to hate other kids just 'cause of stupid stuff like that. Don't want to go hanging around with that sort of people.” He sounded a little desperate, even to his own ears. 

“Yeah...” Malfoy said, eyes a little distant. “Don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort.” 

“Hey, I can help you there,” Albus said with a grin, thrusting his hand out into the aisle between them. 

“My name's Albus, Albus Potter.” 

The Malfoy boy looked at him strangely, arms still crossed over his chest. It took so long for Malfoy to move that Albus began to feel silly, with his hand stuck out like an idiot. How horrible would it be if Malfoy just stared at him like that? Or dismissed him, calling him stupid? He could just see that, his first night at Hogwarts, and people were already talking about how uncool he was. But then, as if hearing Albus' thoughts, the pale boy began to smile-- a weak, tremulous thing that looked unfamiliar on his lips, but that lit up his dove eyes with life. 

Malfoy reached out his own pale, long-fingered hand, and grasped Albus'. “Scorpius,” he said, “Scorpius Malfoy.” 


End file.
